


fire on the mountain

by kirael



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Demons, Gen, M/M, Magic, here ya go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8821663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirael/pseuds/kirael
Summary: Alexander Hamilton accidentally summons a demon.abandoned work





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> chapter note: use of "it" pronoun when expressly told not to
> 
>  
> 
> **this is abandoned bc i hate myself**

Alexander ran his hands through his hair, ignoring the fact that his bun was falling apart. "Look, I don't know why it's here, okay? It's not my fault! I did everything correctly! It just...appeared out of nowhere, sitting on top of my table and eating Skittles."

Aaron Burr blinked. "And you want my help to get rid of it? It seems fairly harmless." He turned to look toward the aforementioned creature, still sitting atop a table and eating a package of sour gummies.

It looked perfectly normal, save for the extra body parts – a long, sinewy tail that sprouted from its body with a pair of horns arching up toward the ceiling – and its outfit – something that looked would probably work better in a 19th century Victorian ballroom, all ruffles and lace complete with a jabot. There was a shackle circling its left leg, covered in pale blue lettering. It looked up from its food. "Hey," it said, "what's up?"

Alex groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. "It’s a menace," he hissed. He gestured to the floor around him wildly. "It’s been leaving wrappers all over the floor! It woke me up in the middle of the night to watch TV, and it refuses to understand modern plumbing." Alexander made a face, thinking back to that morning, when he'd walked into the bathroom only to be greeted with - no. He shivered, banishing the thought.

" _He_ has a name," the menace said loudly.

"I don't care," Alexander said, equally as loud.

"It's Thomas Jefferson," the menace said.

Alexander turned back to Burr, raising his eyebrows as if to say, "Can you believe this guy?"

Burr sighed. "Alright," he said. "Seems like a typical Type 4. It doesn't look too malicious."

Alexander rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. How do I get rid of it?"

"You know," Thomas Jefferson said, "I can hear you. And I'm rather offended."

"Type 3, maybe," Burr continued, ignoring the both of them. "It's got clear comprehension of English and a notable human form, though it might just be a high level Type 3. Either way, you should be able to banish it fairly easily."

"How do I get rid of him?" Alex repeated.

Burr shrugged. "For those of Type 3 and 4, simply repeating the spell backwards often works. Honestly, I'm less concerned about the creature and more concerned about your inability to perform counterspells."

"I'm self-taught!" Alex snapped. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve ever had occasion to undo my work – unlike _some_ people, I get it right on the first try.”

Burr didn't look impressed. "Right," he said. “Call me if you have any more trouble." His words were perfectly amiable, though his tone said otherwise. Ignoring Alexander’s protests, he walked to the door (if it was much faster than his usual pace, no one said anything) and left.

Alexander huffed and reached up to rub at his temples; he could feel a headache coming on. 

There was a sound: the crinkling of plastic; Alexander turned around to see Thomas Jefferson tossing the empty bag once filled with colorful sugar bombs onto the floor, hopping down from the table to land squarely on its feet.

“Fantastic!” Thomas Jefferson said, brushing the last remnants of sugar off of its hands. Its teeth were stained red and blue and there was a stray gummy hanging off of its jabot. “I heard something about getting rid of me. We should get started before the sun sets, yes?”

Alex glared at it suspiciously. “Why’re you so excited?” he asked.

Thomas Jefferson shrugged, smiling wider, making its already huge grin look slightly maniacal. “I wasn’t aware humans had a monopoly on joy,” it replied.

Alexander took a step back, making Thomas Jefferson (now that he thinks about it, that probably isn’t even its real name) take a step forward. “We don’t, but usually when your kind feel enthusiastic it’s because something horrible has happened. Last time it was a war. You understand my skepticism.”

Thomas Jefferson cocked its head. “If you say so,” it said.

“Now come on,” Alex said, grabbing its arm – and immediately dropping it, letting out a cry of pain. “What the _fuck_?” When he’d touched the creature, its skin was hot enough to burn. “What the fuck did you do?” His hand felt – it felt like a thousand bees had swarmed it.

Thomas Jefferson looked down at Alexander’s hand, the surface of the palm bright red. It shrugged again. “Sorry,” it said cheerfully. “Must’ve been involuntary.”

Alex stared at his hand. The pain was fading much, much faster than if it was a regular burn, his skin quickly returning to normal. When the throbbing feeling left, he knelt down on one knee in front of Thomas Jefferson.

“Oh my,” it said.

Alex ignored it. He grabbed the shackle around its ankle, taking care not to touch its body. He could still feel the power pulsing from the metal, surrounding the creature in a bubble of suppression – so why wasn’t it doing its job?

“It’s probably nothing,” Thomas Jefferson said sympathetically. “Just a little malfunction. These things happen, you know.”

Right. Never mind the fact that, in Alex’s experience, they had never failed to work and often had a problem with working too well. Right. He stood up, ignoring his back cracking (he really needed to straighten up more while working, yeesh) as he tried to look the creature straight in its face.

“You’re coming with me,” Alex said.

“I am,” Thomas Jefferson agreed, still smiling.

Alexander glanced back at its arm.

“I’d suggest gloves if you’re scared of touching me,” Thomas Jefferson said. It gestured to its own glove (singular, on its left hand), which was a hideous shade of magenta.

“I’m not scared,” Alexander said bitterly. “Just walk.” He stormed out of the door, turning into the maze of hallways that made up the building that he shared with a dozen other residents. He didn’t bother checking if Thomas Jefferson was behind him; he could hear the thud of high heeled boots and feel the gentle hum of muted power that followed the creature wherever it went.

There’s a saying: All roads lead to Rome. The ancient Romans probably weren’t thinking of Alex’s apartment building, mostly filled with broke semi-adults. Somehow, with enough conviction and grit, randomly turning throughout the house would always lead you to the basement, even if you took a completely different route every time. After realizing this and the fact that the basement was the perfect size for a spell-circle, Alexander (and a few others...) had converted the space into a ritual room.

“You’ve got a rather strange house,” Thomas Jefferson remarked as they walked.

“I know,” Alexander muttered. Another turn left, right, left.

"We're here," Thomas Jefferson said.

"No shit," Alex replied. He fumbled around in his jacket for the keys - too many pockets, dammit - until he found the inconspicuous keyring that held keys to most of his life.

He tried the first key. It didn't work. The second. Didn't work. The third. Fourth. Fifth. He heard Thomas Jefferson laughing at him. Eighth. It went in, turned and - click.

The door creaked open, revealing a dark stairwell lit by candles sporting blue flames.

Thomas Jefferson started giggling madly. "Very intimidating," it said through its laughter.

Alexander rolled his eyes. "Come on," he said. The door closed behind them as they walked in, cutting off the major source light. Thomas Jefferson's eyes glowed a dull red, like flames in the distance.

It was quiet. Alexander could only hear the gentle creak of their footsteps on the old wooden steps and the soft snickering of the creature he was about to banish.

They reached the room, which was equally as dark. If you looked closely at the floor, you could see the faintest hint of dull brown paint on the floor, splattered in the shape of a circle. Without prompting, Thomas Jefferson strode to the center of the circle and sat down cross-legged. It shot Alexander a look that can only be described as a look of pure contempt.

Alex, coughed, once. "You know," he said, "I assume most others would be screaming and kicking and pleading for me not to do this."

Thomas Jefferson shrugged. It smiled. "I'm rather looking forward to it," it said. It made a little shooing motion with its hands. "Go on," it said, "get on with it."

Scowling, Alex grabbed his spellbook and flipped to the page he was reading off of when the creature had originally appeared.

He started reading. Speaking backwards made the words feel slow and clunky in his mouth, like heavy boulders his tongue had to work to get off the page and into the air. He glanced up at the creature halfway through; it was still smiling, its grin wide and sharp and dangerous.

There was no burst of light when he finished, nothing so dramatic as that; instead, there was a small "poof" and a feeling in his stomach like plummeting down a roller coaster, and it was gone. The shackle sat in the middle of the circle forlornly, its glow faded and dull.

Alexander took a deep breath of air and picked it up. He walked out of the room and locked the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alex + lafayette have a nice chat, james madison rears his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im alive unfortunately

A week later, Alexander had almost completely forgotten about the incident. He had scheduled lunch with Lafayette, who’d finally come back from France.

They sat in the middle of the café, Alexander talking about his latest assignment from Washington while Lafayette gingerly sipped his hot chocolate.

“You’ll have to give me George’s contact information,” Lafayette said. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had a conversation with him.”

Alexander made a face. “It’s weird when you call him George,” he said.

Lafayette blinked. “And why not? He’s my friend, and I am his.”

“Yeah,” Alexander said, “but he’s Washington. I can’t imagine calling him George, like we’re best buddies or something.”

Lafayette shrugged, bringing his cup to his lips. When he finished drinking, he said, “Well, I like to think that George and I are ‘best buddies,’ as you say.” He set down the now empty cup on the table, and, seeing that Alexander had finished the sandwich he’d ordered, got up to leave.

They made their way to Alex's building, Lafayette going on about his new girlfriend - Adrienne or something.

"She's wonderful," Lafayette sighed as they turned down another road. “I’d introduce you two sometime, but she’s just so busy! She barely has time for our dates, but we manage. Besides, I don’t think she’d be happy to travel all the way to America just to meet my friends.”

Alexander made the appropriate sounds and movements to indicate that yes, he was listening, and yes, Adrienne sounds wonderful, and yes, Lafayette had really gotten quite lucky this time, all while staring at his phone and reviewing Washington's latest email.

There was a man standing in front of the door of Alex's building. Lafayette spotted him first, nudging Alexander until he finally looked up from his phone.

The man was short, shorter than even Alex, though much more well dressed with a sensible grey suit. He held in his left hand what appeared to be a silk handkerchief. He waited patiently for Lafayette and Alex to approach him.

"Which one of you is Mister Hamilton?" the man asked, his voice a low rumble. He brought his handkerchief up to his face and coughed into it.

Alexander carefully noted the watch the man had; it was clearly old, made of carefully polished bronze, one of the ones that ran on leftover spirit energy rather than clockwork or electricity. If it wasn't obvious, the man clearly had money.

Alex frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

The man tilted his head, oddly birdlike, his eyes examining Lafayette and Alexander as if he were cataloguing every detail about them. Alex suddenly became very self-conscious.

"My friend asked you a question," Lafayette said.

The man ignored Lafayette, instead turning to the door, his arms behind his back, looking like an old sage. He turned back and smiled politely. "Sorry," he said," I seem to have gotten the wrong house." He stepped forward and past them.

They let him go.

As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Lafayette turned to Alex and said, "What did you do?" His eyes were dark.

Alex held his hands up. "I didn't do anything!" he said.

"Then why was that man looking for you?"

"I don't know!" Alex got out his keys and opened the door. "Let's just go inside." As he stepped into the hallway, he couldn’t help but glance back at the road behind them.

James Madison watched from afar as the door closed and shut with a click. He was tired. It had been too long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a new challenger approaches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did one ocean say to another? 
> 
> ...nothing, they just waved.

She was tall, with heels that made her look taller, and her hand was decorated with bright, jewel studded rings that caught the light and shimmered as she took another puff of her cigarette.

"You're the last person I expected to be here," Angelica admitted.

Thomas Jefferson shrugged easily, sticking his hands into the pockets of his newly acquired jeans.

She sighed, throwing the half-finished cigarette to the ground and crushing it under her heel. "What do you want?"

"Who says I want anything?"

Angelica raised her eyebrows, righteously skeptical. "I do," she said. She had a vague inkling of why he was standing in front of her, and it had a lot to do with the pale blue markings etched into his skin, the ones he was hiding with the long-sleeved jacket he was wearing in the midst of the hottest months of the year.

Jefferson smiled. "Can't I just visit an old friend?"

"Not really," Angelica replied. She leaned up against the dark brick wall that encased the alleyway they were sequestered in. "I heard from the grapevine that James Madison has been looking for you."

Jefferson flinched at the sound of James Madison's name. "Hell of a grapevine," he muttered.

Angelica smiled, razor sharp and brilliant. "You're rusty," she said. It had been too long since he's been here last, and the world changes far too fast to be able to keep up, even if you're Angelica, with a thousand connections and a mind that works faster than any of them. She pushed herself off of the wall into a standing position, her hands stuck into her pockets.

"You should go," Angelica said, and watched Jefferson's expression collapse into a scowl.

"You owe me," he said darkly.

Angelica stifled a laugh. "You forget so quickly," she said. "Constantinople, remember?" Constantinople, and Rome, and Beijing, and Cairo, and Athens, and- Has it really been that long? She reached into her pocket to pull out another cigarette, despite the fact that she didn't even finish the last one. She held out the pack to Jefferson. Small offerings.

Jefferson frowned and stared at it. When he didn't move to take one, Angelica shrugged, put it back in his pocket, and took out a lighter. She lit the cigarette and took a deep breath. She could feel the smoke settling in her lungs, dark and bitter.

"Right," Jefferson said. He paused and shook his head, making his curls bounce. "No."

This time, Angelica didn't bother hiding her laughter. "No?" she asked.

He was expressionless. "You're going to help me," he said slowly. His hand clenched into a fist at his side.

Angelica smiled, leaned in, and grabbed his arm.

Jefferson tried to pull away, but Angelica held on tight, with supernatural strength, rolling up his sleeve to expose the pale blue marks etched into his skin. She wasn't surprised. Angelica traced one of them with a long red nail, winding up his arm even as he shook with effort, unable to get out of her grasp. "You can't do anything to me," she said. She released him.

Jefferson stumbled backwards as soon as her fingers left her skin. His eyes were wide and shocked, almost childlike. "I-" he said, "I don't-"

There was a large, looming feeling, and Jefferson was gone.

Angelica rolled her eyes. Overdramatic, as always.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> conversations. help is provided.

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here today,” Alexander said, leaning up against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed in front of him.

Burr stared at him, his face carefully expressionless. “Not really,” he said.

Alexander uncrossed his arms and pushed himself away from the counter, standing up to stare at the wall for a brief moment, trying to gather his thoughts, before turning back toward Burr. "I think I'm being followed," he confessed.

Burr raised a single, skeptical eyebrow.

Alexander winced. "Okay, okay," he said. "It sounds paranoid, but it's true. I can prove it, look."

He crossed the room to pick up a small stack of papers from the coffee table. He pulled the first page out to shove it into Burr's face.

Burr grabbed it from him and stared at the picture on the paper - a blurry image of what looked to be the street outside Alexander's apartment. "What am I meant to be looking at?" he asked. "And why does this look so sketchy?"

Alex grabbed the picture back. "It's not sketchy at all," he huffed. "And you'll see. C'mon, look."

He turned around, spinning on one heel, and spread out the papers all on the kitchen counter. They were all pictures, taken from various angles, of the outside area of Alexander's house.

"You don't see it," Alex groaned. "Look." He pointed at a dark smudge at the edge of one of the pictures. The image, taken at nighttime, was almost incomprehensibly dark and blurred.

"I still don't know what I'm meant to be looking at," Burr said. "You're going to have to elaborate."

There was a deep feeling within Alexander that rose from its hiding place whenever he talked to Burr. If he had to give it a name, he would call it anger, though it went far deeper than that. Fury. Spite. Something that made Alexander want to murder a man. "Oh my god, Burr." He shoved the photograph in Burr's face. "If you look closer," Alexander explained, "you'll see that there's a distinct blur or dark mark in each of the pictures. Now," he said, "some digging around revealed the concept of clocking magic; as in, magic that can hide a person."

"Ah," Burr said, "you're saying someone cloaked themselves."

Alexander threw his hands up in the air. "When I first suspected someone was following me, I started taking pictures. Just a small feeling of course. And then I started noticing a pattern. The dark smudge, blur, mark, whatever."

Burr crossed his arms over his chest. "I still don't see what this has to do with me."

"You're my confidant!" Alexander exclaimed. "Someone's gotta fill the trope."

Burr blinked, once, slow and languid. "And you thought it best to confess to me."

"Well, yeah." Alexander scooped all the photos back up and arranged them into a pile.

"Maybe your camera's just faulty," Burr pointed out.

"It's not!" Alexander said. "Just...help me." He ran his fingers through his hair - greasy, yikes. He needed a shower.

Burr, to his credit, didn't immediately refuse, which was altogether admirable. Then he sighed, as if helping Alexander would be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do, and then nodded.

Alexander felt the sudden urge to hug him. He didn't.

* * *

“I’m told,” James Madison said, standing in front of the door to Angelica’s (mostly) temporary apartment, effectively preventing her from exiting, “that you’ve met with Thomas.” He had his hands crossed behind his back, still as elegant as ever, though make no mistake, his eyes were dark and fiery.

Angelica wanted to laugh. _Men._ Or at least men shaped creatures. “You think you can intimidate me into caring,” she replied, refusing to get up from her comfortable seat on the couch.

“You do,” Madison insisted.

“You don’t get to decide for me,” Angelica muttered. She toyed with the edges of her jacket. There was one, maybe two weapons hidden in there, even though she doubted Madison would have to courage to attack. Just in case.

“Your sister-“ Madison began, but Angelica was already shaking her head.

“Sorry, no can do,” Angelica said. “Strike one. Three strikes and you’re out.”

She could hear Madison grinding his teeth from here. She was careful to keep her face expressionless.

“Please,” he said, a hint of pleading slipping into his tone.

“Strike two,” Angelica said. “One more chance.”

Madison paused. He moved away from the doorway and sat on the couch, adjacent from Angelica’s seat. “Please,” he said again, and _there_. There was the desperation.

Angelica smiled. “Alright,” she said.

She told him everything she knew, and watched Madison school his face into one of impressive impassiveness.

When he left, Angelica slipped out her phone and texted Thomas Jefferson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lil rushed and mostly unedited but w/e the motto of this fic is here ya go so here ya go


End file.
